


The 64th Day

by NotSoLittleLight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Canon-Typical Violence, Cas gets injured, Fluff and Angst, Gift Fic, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Canon, Protective Dean Winchester, emotional!Dean, future!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-07-27 11:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16217987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoLittleLight/pseuds/NotSoLittleLight
Summary: When a newly human Cas is gravely injured during a hunt, Dean finds himself reliving the grief he felt when he lost Cas three years ago. Something has changed between the two of them, something Dean cannot deny any longer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaltyWords (agent4hire22)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/gifts).



> What started as a small idea has taken over my mind. 
> 
> Gifting this to SaltyWords aka Winchester_Reload as a thank you for her wonderful fics and art and for hosting the wonderful SuptoberArt2018 challenge for SPN this year, which I blame completely for being inspired at all lol

Cas had been human for 64 days before shit hit the fan.

They’d been investigating reports of ritualistic attacks involving "animals" trekking a path across Virginia when it became clear that they were in new territory. It wasn’t until they got a glimpse of one of them that they realized that they weren’t chasing animals or one of their run of the mill monsters, but witches that had somehow found the ability to physically bond with their familiars. Their targets were odd, no discernable connection between them except the fact that they always attacked families with at least two children and the parents’ hearts were missing.

It was a frustrating two weeks of tracking that culminated when they finally cornered the coven in an abandoned warehouse in Suffolk. There were four of them, dressed in ceremonial garb around a candlelit circle in the center of the large room, their chanting voices echoing off of the metal walls around them.

Dean motioned to Sam and Cas, taking the right as the two of them headed into position. He couldn’t see much, aside from the shadows cast by the candlelight, the hoods of the witches’ garb obscuring their faces as they continued to chant.

His stomach lurched as he watched one of the witches lift what appeared to be one of the missing human hearts above her head, blood dripping down the slightly exposed pale skin of her wrists. He looked across the room to see Sam and Cas in position, their eyes flickering between him and the scene in front of them.

Once he gave the go, the room erupted in a blur of movement and feral screams. The witches seemed to still be bound to their respective familiars and Dean started at the bright green eyes staring back at him as one of the witches swatted at him with what looked like a cat’s claws.

He tried to dodge but she was too fast for him, her arm reaching out and tearing a searing series of lines across his bicep.

“You catty bitch,” he scowled, bringing up his gun and putting a bullet between her eyes. He didn’t bother to watch her drop, his attention turned toward the sound of his brother swearing across the room. Sam was pinned, one witch wrapped around his back and weighing him down as another made her way towards him, her jaw unhinged in an unnatural way, fangs glistening in the candlelight as she snarled. His eyes flickered to Cas, who was engaged with the fourth but still on his feet.

He sprinted toward Sam, bodily slamming the snake witch into the wall before grabbing at the arm of the one wrapped around Sam’s neck. His brother let out a relieved breath as Dean pulled her arms free and threw her across the room. Then they drew their weapons and fired, both witches crying out before falling to their final resting place on the floor.

Dean turned just in time to see the fourth slide sickly from Cas’s angel blade and onto the floor, her elongated teeth slowly receding into her bloodied mouth formed in an ‘O’ of surprised horror.

“Well that was a lot easier than it could’ve been,” Sam remarked as he took in the room full of bodies. It was still dim in the room and the sudden quiet loomed around them like a witness.

“Everyone good?” Dean asked, his hand instinctively going up to check the gashes on his arm. He was still bleeding but it wasn’t nothing a few stitches and a bottle of Jack couldn’t cure.

The three of them stood there, silently taking stock of their various scratches and bites for just a moment before Dean caught the sight of movement on the outer corner of the barely lit room. “Cas!” he shouted, but it was too late. The last witch, the head of the coven if her garb was any indication, was already on him, her huge, canine teeth sinking into his neck with ease as her hands snaked around to sink her claws into his chest.

Dean and Sam were on top of her in an instant, both of them firing their witch killing bullets into her body but even as the life faded from her eyes, she refused to let go of Cas. Dean watched with wide eyes as Cas fell to his knees, the witch still wrapped around him, her receding teeth and claws finally letting go of him, her limp body falling to the floor behind him.

“D- De-” Cas tried, but the name was interrupted by the slow flow of blood from his lips.

Dean was on his knees beside him in a second, pulling off his flannel to bundle it up and put pressure on the draining wound in Cas’s neck. “Hey. Hey, look at me. Look at me, Cas,” he said, bringing up his other hand to hold his head steady. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I’ll get the car,” Sam said, already heading toward the back entrance where they came in.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice was a gurgle but Dean still heard the plea behind it. Cas’s hand came up to clutch at Dean’s arm as he struggled to inhale, his lung no doubt punctured in several places by the witch's well placed attack.

Dean swallowed thickly and tried to keep back the panic that wanted to take over his limbs and mind. It didn’t matter whether Cas was human, angel or otherwise. The idea of losing him again –

Dean shook his head and offered Cas a tight smile. “I’m right here, buddy. You’re gonna be okay. Not goin’ out over a fucking witch. Not after everything, okay?” He knew he was saying it more for himself than Cas but he had to say it. Cas would be okay. He had to be.

Cas’ fingers tightened briefly on his arm before his eyes began to drift, his lids falling slightly. He was losing way too much blood. “Cas, come on, buddy. Hang on. Don’t pass out on me.”

Cas seemed to be trying to fight the inevitable but it was only moments before his eyes fell closed completely, his body going limp and Dean felt his throat starting to close up.

Luckily, he was pulled from his panic quickly, Sam running in to help him move Cas to the car. They got him in the backseat and Dean pulled him over his lap as Sam threw the duffel of clean clothes at him before jumping in the driver’s seat. Dean grabbed at something large and cotton from the bundle of clothes and replaced the one on Cas’s neck, his arm wrapping around Cas’s chest with another shirt to try and cover the puncture wounds to his lung. “Just hang on, man.” He was rocking, Cas’s unconscious face staring up at him and all he could feel was the infinite sense of loss, the image of Cas’s wings burned into the ground just three years ago blurring his vision.

He blinked, the tears he didn’t even know had formed falling quickly from his face to land on the blood stained cheek below and Dean choked back a sob. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t. He couldn’t lose him. He –

“We’re about five minutes out. How’s he doing?” Sam said, pulling him out of his thoughts and Dean cleared his throat roughly, sniffling before bringing a hand up to touch Cas’s face.

“He’s turning blue, man. And his skin is getting cool. You gotta hurry it up, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes caught his in the rearview mirror before Dean felt the car speed up and he returned his hand to the wounds on Cas’s chest.

Everything seemed to slow down as Dean stared down at the face of the former-angel, his breath slow and ragged but still fighting. He thought about how many times he’d looked at Cas and didn’t allow himself to see. Sure, Jimmy was his vessel at first, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. This body was Cas’s, aged with battle scars and lines etched from worry, muscle built to continue fighting as a human.

Human.

He’d given up his grace to restore Heaven, chosen to save one family and stay with another. He’d always tried to walk the line between Heaven and Earth, but he explained to Dean just three months ago that it felt right to do it, to give up his grace to save the family he betrayed and spend his mortal life with the family he found on his own.

Dean hadn’t let himself truly hear Cas, either. And now, he was growing colder in his arms and there wasn’t a damn thing Dean could do. Again.

“Here,” Sam announced. Dean blinked, nodding at his brother before they began the frantic scramble to get Cas out of the car carefully and through the Emergency entrance.

He fought the urge to yell at the nurse when they told him and Sam to stay in the waiting area as they lowered Cas onto a gurney and he felt Sam’s hand land on his shoulder and squeeze before nodding curtly and spinning on his heel. He couldn’t watch them wheel him back there, beyond doors where he couldn’t see.

“He’s gonna be okay, Dean,” Sam said, trailing behind him quietly before taking a seat next to him in the corner of the sparsely filled waiting room. It was too bright, Dean’s head hurt and his heart felt like it would never slow back down. A few moments later, Sam spoke again, hand stilling on the form he worked on with Cas’s fake insurance information. “You should get that taken care of while we’re here,” he said gently, his pen pointed toward the gashes on Dean’s arm.

He couldn’t tell if they were still bleeding, his t-shirt already covered in blood. No. Not just blood. CAS’s blood. Dean reeled as the realization hit him, his stomach twisting as the world suddenly tilted on its axis.

He rose too quickly, his head swimming just as bad as his stomach and strode quickly to the bathroom across from them, not bothering with the lock before dropping to his knees in front of the toilet, the contents of his stomach coming up in a painful, choking rush. He gasped, trying to breathe between the spasms, white pinpricks of light dancing on the corners of his vision.

Once his stomach was completely empty, his body continued to convulse for what felt like an eternity before it finally quieted. He rested his head on the cold tile wall as he tried to breathe slowly, the blurry edges of his vision slowly coming back into focus. He had to straighten up. He had to be strong. For Cas. For Sam. But he couldn’t stop thinking about those burned wings, the sinking weight of loss a heavy memory that seemed to be soaked into his bones.

He made it to his feet a few minutes later, washing his face and forearms free of blood and rinsing out his mouth at the sink. He met Sam’s concerned gaze when he exited the bathroom and he offered a tight smile, nodding at the reception desk before heading toward it. Sam was right. He might as well get sewn up while they waited on news about Cas. If anything, he could give them his shirt to burn, or whatever it was they did with biohazard shit.

The nurse at the desk smiled warmly at him as he approached. “I was wondering when you’d make your way up here,” she said, her eyes landing on his wounds. Dean couldn’t muster the smooth excuse he would regularly give and just nodded. Compassion shone in her eyes as she grabbed a clipboard and handed it to him. “Bring this back to me when you’re done. And I’ll make sure you’re updated if there’s any news on your friend.”

Dean cleared his throat and glanced down at the blood on his shirt. “Thank you.” There was no telling how long it’d be before they got news on Cas, so for now, he’d focus on getting cleaned up.

 

**

 

Three hours and seventeen minutes later, Sam and Dean were called and asked to follow a petite nurse. She led them beyond the ominous double doors and to an elevator, explaining that “Mr. Ambrose” was in recovery on the fourth floor and that the doctor would meet them at the reception desk.

Dean tried to calm his racing thoughts by telling himself that Cas was alive and that was all that mattered. But the fact that he’d been in surgery for three hours still had his insides coiled tight. He hated hospitals, he hated waiting. He needed to see him, to know for sure he was still here, still alive. He needed to see him open his eyes, hear him say his name, know that his worst fears hadn’t once again come to pass.

Sam, to his credit, knew well enough to take lead while speaking to the doctor. Dean tried to take in all that he said over the drone of his own pulse but he knew he only heard parts of it. Cas had four puncture wounds to his chest, two of which had penetrated his lung. They’d been able to remove the excess air from his chest to get his lung back to its normal size and after a lengthy transfusion and surgery to repair his torn carotid, he was in stable condition.

“He’ll need to stay in recovery for a few days before he’ll be strong enough to be discharged. But he did very well in surgery and his outlook is good,” the doctor told them.

Sam was in the middle of thanking him when Dean blurted, “Can we see him?”

The doctor’s attention turned to him and his brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t think that’s the wisest idea,” he began and Dean bristled. Before he could begin to respond, Sam touched the doctor’s elbow and interrupted his explanation.

“Can I speak to you a moment?” he asked, using his best convincing tone. Dean looked at him questioningly and Sam shot him a look that said to wait as he led the doctor to the end of the reception desk, Dean staring blankly after them.

Dean watched as Sam whispered something to the doctor, the man shooting curious glances at him before nodding and straightening. “This way please, Mr. Ambrose,” he said, motioning for Dean to follow him.

Dean shot Sam another look as he began to follow the doctor and Sam shrugged, giving him a small smile. “I’ll be downstairs,” he told him, waving him off before heading back toward the elevators.

Dean brushed off his confusion and continued to follow the doctor toward the back of the floor, through winding corridors of rooms, doors closed to the nightly routines of the nurses and staff on the main corridor.

“Here we are,” the doctor, Dean couldn’t remember if he even got his name, said, stopping in front of another room with a wooden door. He could see Cas through the window and he felt his relief like a kick to the chest. “Please, try not to disturb him. He needs as much rest as he can get for the next couple of days.” The doctor quietly opened the door and motioned to the chairs on the side for Dean to sit. “If he wakes up or you need the nurse, the call button is on the side of his bed. It’s the red one.”

Dean looked between the chairs and Cas’s bed before meeting the doctor’s eyes. “Thanks, doc. Really.”

“No problem. Try and get some rest yourself. The nurse will be by shortly to check on him.”

Then Dean was alone in the room, the only sounds the quieted beep of the heart monitor beside Cas’s bed and the sound of his quiet, steady breaths. Dean didn’t realize that the sound of someone breathing could be so relieving.

He carefully made his way over to the set of two chairs, picking one up and setting it down beside the hospital bed. He settled into the chair and took in Cas’s appearance as he slept. They’d cleaned most of the blood from him and his skin no longer carried that bluish tone, his cheeks pinked under the tubes of the oxygen line secured in his nose.

Dean began to reach forward and caught himself, his hand stalled hovering over Cas’s. _Fuck it,_ he thought before he leaned forward, carefully taking Cas’s still hand between both of his own, holding it like in prayer as he closed his eyes.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Dean whispered, the sound of his own voice startling him. He hadn’t intended to speak but the words had come out in a rush, the relief taking over and draping over him like a physical presence as he took in the small amount of heat from Cas’ hand. He could feel his pulse just barely through his wrist and the feeling was grounding, offering him comfort after hours of feeling like he was drowning.

Hell, he’d felt that way for years. His whole life just a long line of treading water and being pulled under, not knowing when he’d be able to take his next breath. The last two months, though, he’d been breathing pretty damn well. The archangels were dead, Heaven restored, the world saved for hopefully the last time. Cas was human and _living_ with them. He’d made that choice, had asked Dean if he could stay and Dean hadn’t been able to say yes fast enough.

His readjustment to humanity was endearing and Dean felt lucky to be able to experience it with him this time. Cas had long ago forgiven him for abandoning him the first time he went through the transition, but there was so much that Dean had to learn about the human version of his best friend.

Like how he preferred French vanilla ice cream to regular vanilla and wouldn’t get pie unless it came with it. Or how his preferred method of communication before a cup of coffee was throwing a spoon in Dean’s general direction when he dared speak. The way he would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and fix himself a cup of tea and sit in the library, tucked into a chair under one lit lamp, a blue blanket adorned with stars he’d purchased for himself draped across his lap and one shoulder as he read whatever book had piqued his interest. Recently it had been a series of historical romances that he’d taken joy in pointing out the accuracies of during their dinner just three weeks before.

God, he still had so much more to learn about Cas. What else brought out that gummy smile or that small huff of laughter that meant he was genuinely amused by something? What passions would Cas choose to spend his time on now that his time on Earth was limited? And would he share them with Dean? Dean would like to do that, to share the experience of life with Cas, to show him the full range of what human life has to offer. Hell, Dean wasn't even sure he knew the full extent, but maybe with Cas he could. Maybe...

He was still thinking of all the things he wanted to show Cas when the exhaustion of the night’s events slowly began to claim him. He let his head fall to rest on his uninjured arm, his fingers still wrapped protectively around his best friend’s hand as he let the sound of Cas’s heartrate monitor lull him to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to continue this one. These two just kinda take over my brain sometimes lol Hope you enjoy.

Dean woke slowly, the faint beep of the heart monitor bringing him back to reality just as steadily as it carried him off to sleep. He blinked, noticing that the lights in the room had been dimmed slightly since he passed out and he began to slowly sit up, wincing at the kink in his neck and shoulder.

He stopped suddenly when he felt the fingers still trapped between his hands tighten around his, his gaze jumping to find Cas staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. The swell of emotion at the sight of those eyes after such a terrifying night almost made him gasp. Instead, he smiled, tightening his grip in response as he whispered, “Mornin’, sunshine.”

Cas swallowed, the action thick and his tongue peeked out to wet his dry lips. “What happened?” Cas whispered back, his voice ragged and raspy. Dean thought to get him some water, but Cas was still holding tight to his hand and to be honest, Dean didn’t want to move just yet.

“Witch bitch punctured your lung. You lost a lot of blood. They fixed you up, though, and you’re gonna be fine.” Dean tempered his voice, afraid to speak too loudly in the stillness of the dim room, afraid to put an end to the strange moment as Cas stared at him. There was something in his expression, something soft that Dean rarely got to see, something he couldn’t quite decipher but still recognized deep within himself as familiar.

“Sam?” Cas asked and Dean smiled.

“Sam’s fine. He’s downstairs.” Cas smiled weakly at that, nodding slightly before closing his eyes again. “Do you want some water or something?” Dean asked, watching as Cas carefully shook his head, the bandage covering his neck scraping across his stubble.

“Just stay,” he said quietly and Dean swallowed thickly, pulling his chair in even closer to the bed as Cas rested their joined hands beside his leg.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

 

**

 

It was another four hours before Sam knocked gently on the door, visiting hours officially open for the day. Dean blinked away the doze he’d fallen into as Sam entered, thankfully carrying a coffee in each hand.

“Aw, man. Thanks,” Dean said, slowly pulling away one of his hands from Cas’s to reach for the offered cup. Sam’s eyes fell to where Cas held onto him while he slept but he made no mention of it as he handed him his coffee.

“He wake up yet?” Sam asked, sitting in the chair alongside the wall. Dean nodded, taking a careful sip of his coffee.

“Few hours ago. He can talk, but just barely. But his breathing is back to normal. The nurse is supposed to change his bandages in a little bit so we’ll be able to see what we’re dealing with.”

Sam nodded, taking an assessing glance at Cas. “I can take over for a while if you need to take a break,” he said but Dean shook his head. He promised Cas he would stay and he intended to do just that.

“I’m good, Sammy.”

Sam nodded before making his way to his feet. “In that case, I’m going to go back to the motel and take a shower. I’ll grab you some fresh clothes while I’m there. Anything else you need?”

Dean went to shake his head and stopped. “Actually, yeah. Grab some of those books Cas is always reading, will ya?”

Sam’s eyebrows drew together in a confused expression. “You’re going to read romance novels?”

“No. No, I was thinking I could – You know, read them _to_ him. While he’s getting better.”

Sam considered his older brother for a moment and Dean could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. He was a second away from telling Sam to just forget it before Sam was shrugging. “Sounds good.” He patted Dean on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

 

**

 

Cas woke up again about a half an hour later. Dean was once again resting with his head on the mattress beside him but he sat up at the sound of Cas groaning. Cas raised the hand connected to his IV to shield his eyes against the sunlight coming in through the windows, trying to turn away from it but stopped with a wince.

Dean was up on his feet in an instant, pulling the blinds closed before turning back and taking in the man before him. The bandage on his neck was tinged pink, in need of changing and covering the expanse of his neck from his jaw to his shoulder. IV lines ran to the arm he was slowly lowering, the bandages wrapped around his chest peeking out from under the falling sheet.

Despite all of it, when Cas finally turned his head toward him, the smile he offered Dean was nothing short of breath-taking.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean felt rooted to the spot, that smile, those tired but bright eyes staring at him with such open affection, so _alive._ He felt as his own face split into an equally telling grin, lopsided and giddy with relief and joy.

“Hey, Cas.”

Cas was much stronger and coherent, even managing to sit up when the nurse came in to replace his bandages. They chatted idly, watching a terrible courtroom drama on Lifetime until Sam returned.

Sam was thrilled to see Cas awake and looking better and Dean shook his head as Sam couldn’t resist giving Cas a _very_ careful hug, dropping a duffel at Dean’s feet. Dean bent over, rifling through the contents while Sam and Cas chatted, silently cheering when he grasped the soft cover book tucked into the side.

“What is that?” Cas asked curiously as Dean sat up, trying to peer over the edge of the bed to see Dean’s hands.

Dean grinned and held up the book, taking in Cas’s look of surprise. “Figured it’d be a good way to pass the time, since we’re gonna be here a while.” He turned to his brother, who’d pulled the second chair over to the other side of the bed. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Dean, you don’t have to stay here the -” Cas began but Dean waved him off.

“I ain’t going nowhere, so don’t bother,” he said, flipping through the book in his hands to avoid the curious eyes on him.

“You should at least go back to the motel and take a shower. No offense, dude, but you kinda reek,” Sam told him. “I’ll stay here and you can get something to eat while you’re out, too.”

Dean’s first instinct was to protest. The idea of leaving, of letting Cas out of his sight at that moment felt like something beyond his strength. He sputtered, opening and closing his mouth on several retorts before replying indignantly, “I do not _reek._ ” He looked to Cas for back up and was met with a side eye that would put Claire to shame. “Seriously, Cas?”

Cas shrugged carefully with his good shoulder. “I wasn’t going to mention it.”

Sam huffed a laugh as Dean rolled his eyes. He might as well take advantage of the opportunity. He could still feel the blood that had soaked through his jeans and dried, a thick, itchy reminder of just how close a call the night before had really been. Maybe if he could wash it away, the memory would lessen its hold on him. But the idea of leaving almost made him sick.

He was abruptly pulled from his internal debate when he felt a hand fall atop his where it rested on the edge of the bed. He looked up in surprise and met Cas’s eyes, that same look of warm affection on his face. Dean felt a flush of heat rise up the back of his neck as Cas squeezed his fingers gently and smiled.

“Go, Dean. I’ll be fine here with Sam. I’m feeling much better already.”

Dean sighed heavily, biting his lower lip before turning his hand, wrapping his fingers around Cas’s briefly. “Yeah, okay.”

As he stood, Dean caught his brother watching them, a contemplative look on his face. Dean decided not to think about it, about _anything_. Especially not the oppressive feeling taking over in his chest as he bid his brother and Cas goodbye with a promise to be back soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 

Dean stood in the shower watching the dried blood flow toward the drain, the steam in the air warming him through and through, cleansing him of the stench of blood and mud. He stood there until the water ran cold, quickly washing and rinsing before exiting and making his way into the motel room with a towel wrapped around his waist.

He looked around the room, searching for the duffel of clean clothes his brother and he had just washed at the laundromat a couple of days previous before he realized his mistake. Sure enough, there was a trash bag by the front door, filled with bloodied and ruined clothes from where Sam had cleaned up the Impala while away from the hospital.

Dean checked his bag, relieved that he still had one pair of jeans that weren’t completely ruined before making his way over to Cas’s bed and his bag sitting atop the rumpled sheets. Dean rummaged and smiled when he pulled the Led Zeppelin shirt he’d given Cas from the bunch. It was a bit small for Cas now, given how he’d bulked up in the last couple months, but seeing it there among the other personal items he’d collected for himself made Dean happy.

He stood there, droplets of water making their way down his shoulders from his hair, staring at the front of the shirt, remembering the day he gave it to Cas.

“Am I to assume this means you aren’t a fan of the suit?” Cas had quipped, taking the shirt with a small smirk that played havoc on Dean’s insides.

 “If you’re gonna be human, you might as well be comfy,” Dean had replied, rolling his eyes and returning to his dresser to seek out more clothing he could spare.

“Dean, we’re going to the store tomorrow. You don’t need to give me these things,” Cas had said and Dean turned, a pair of pajama pants in hand to find Cas staring down at the shirt, rolling the soft material around his fists like it was something special.

Dean cleared his throat and thrust the pants at Cas. “Don’t be stupid.”

Cas had looked at him then, his blue eyes soft, fine lines forming at the sides as he smiled warmly. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean shook his head to clear the memory and pulled the shirt over his head quickly. “What am I doing?” he asked the empty motel room before snatching his phone off of the dresser and sitting down on Cas’s bed.

He scrolled through his unread messages and was relieved to see that Sam had already talked to Charlie and Jack, who were currently away at a week-long convention together in California. “Heard the news. Jack and I will take the long way home,” Charlie’s text read. He was suddenly grateful that both his Charlie and the one they’d saved from the apocalypse world shared Jack’s almost scary obsession with Star Wars. It meant that Jack wouldn’t have to see Cas like this and they’d have two less people to worry about once they got Cas back home.

Home.

That’s what it was now. Again. Dean had heard stories about what it was like with all of the survivors holed up there, before almost all of them decided it was time to move on.

Now, it was just them again. Dean, Sam, Cas, Jack. Sometimes Mary and Bobby. Sometimes Charlie. Sometimes Claire or Jody. But Dean could always count on the four of them, his family, to have their roots planted at the bunker, to always come _home_.

He hadn’t taken that for granted with Cas, not with their history, but he still felt like he should’ve been paying more attention. He should’ve paid attention to the way the bunker went from home base to _home_. He should’ve paid attention to just how easily Cas fit into the day to day lives of two old, salty hunters. How brighter his days were when he could count on that grumpy son of a bitch drinking coffee across from him in the mornings.

When he lost Cas the last time, he’d lost so much. He couldn’t even function. He couldn’t imagine a future without him in it. And now, he has _even more_ to lose.

It terrified him.

His phone rang while he was sitting there, Sam’s name popping up on the screen and he answered, blinking away the clinging thoughts.

“Hey, Sam. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. He fell asleep right after you left so I’ve just been hanging out.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s good, I guess. The doctor said he needs to rest as much as possible. Maybe dim the lights? He was super angry at the sun earlier.” Dean was pacing, pulling at a random thread on his jeans.

Sam laughed softly. “Got it. You holding up okay? We didn’t really get a chance to check in earlier.”

Dean rolled his eyes. That was Sam’s consoling voice. “I’m fine, Sam. Just…” He let out a sigh. “Just rattled, I guess.”

Sam made a noise that meant he understood. “Well, take your time. He’s out like a light and I’m good just hanging out, if you wanna catch a nap or something.”

“Nah, I’m gonna head back in a few. Just – Need to eat something.”

“Alright. See ya in a few.”

 

**

 

Dean made his way down the hallway of the recovery wing, a small bag of snacks and drinks rustling as it hit against his leg with every step.

He came upon the nurse’s station nearest to Cas’s room and the nurse looked up and smiled at him as he approached. “Ah, Mr. Ambrose, welcome back,” she said, standing as Dean slowed to a stop in front of her station.

Dean recognized her as the same nurse that had changed Cas’s bandages earlier in the day. He took a quick peek at her badge before replying, “Hey there, Aubrey.”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping I could ask you something,” she said sheepishly, looking down at the papers she was suddenly patting straight on the desk.

Dean noticed her awkwardness and shrugged. “Sure, what’s up?”

Aubrey placed the papers down on the folder in front of her. “It’s just - was Mr. Ambrose wearing his wedding ring when he got here? If he was, it seems to have been misplaced and I can’t seem to find the nurses that handled his intake to know where to look.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “His - his wedding ring?”

“Yes, I didn’t know if he was wearing it when he was brought in. Dr. Lightner told me about you and your husband’s situation, so I wasn’t sure if he had one.” She looked and took in Dean’s hand still wrapped around the handles of the snack bag. “You don’t seem to be wearing one. Am I worrying for nothing?” She looked back up at him hopefully as Dean blinked at her, his brain searching for any reason this conversation was taking place.

“Um, no. I mean, no, no need to worry. No rings,” he told her and the relief on her face was obvious.

“Oh, good.” She smiled widely at him. “I’ll let you get back to him, then. I’m sorry to bother you.”

Dean took a step towards Cas’s room, still in a bit of a daze and waved at her. “No problem.”

When he entered Cas’s room, Cas was still asleep so he carefully shut the door. “Sam, do you have any idea why the nurse thinks Cas is my husband?” He made his way quietly to his seat as his brother looked up at him, surprised.

“Oh, um. Remember when the doctor didn’t want us to visit him last night? I, uh,” Sam averted his eyes and Dean raised a brow at him as he carefully sat down beside the bed.

“You what, Sam?”

“I told the doctor that you were his husband, but that Cas wasn’t out to his family so the whole thing was really hush hush, ya know.”

Dean stared wide-eyed at his brother for a few moments, taking in his words. His first knee-jerk reaction was to shout “You _what?_ ” but he didn’t want to wake Cas. And to be honest, it didn’t really bother him, the idea of people thinking that him and Cas were, you know.

In fact, it bothered him a lot less than he thought it would. So many people had made quips and jabs about their relationship in the past and it was always irritating, maybe even cutting because of some reason Dean didn’t want to face, but now, especially considering that it got him in the door, he found he didn’t really care.

“Good call, dude,” he finally said, sitting back in the chair and letting the bag of snacks fall at his feet.

Sam gaped at him for a second, eyes wide and mouth open in surprise before he let out a small huff and smiled. “Thanks.”

 

**

 

It only took three more days in recovery for Cas to get his strength back enough to badger them into leaving the hospital. For three days, Dean read to him while he was awake, oversaw and helped with the changing of his bandages every shift change, made sure he was getting his pain medication on time and that Cas didn’t try anything stupid.

“Dean, I can get dressed on my own,” Cas huffed, swiping the T-shirt from Dean’s hands. “Is this how you were with Sam growing up?”

Dean’s mouth fell open in offense. “What? No!”

“Thank, God,” Sam chirped from his seat and Dean flipped him off.

“I just want to make sure you don’t tear your stitches, you ungrateful shit,” Dean mumbled, grabbing the jeans from the bag of new clothes that Sam had brought and handing them to Cas.

“I’m less worried about my stitches and more about Aubrey catching us walking out of here,” Cas said, resting against the bed to maneuver into the jeans without pulling anything.

“I’ll take care of that,” Sam said.

Dean, who had seen Sam and the head nurse chatting the day before, laughed. “Yeah, I bet you will, Sammy.” He laughed again as his brother blushed and huffed in annoyance.

Their escape of the hospital was anticlimactic. Sam distracted the nurses while Dean and Cas snuck out to the elevator and within half an hour, they were on the road toward home.

It was about an eighteen hour drive to the bunker, one that Sam and Dean could usually make in a day by switching shifts, but given Cas’s state, they figured it best to stop off and stay the night once they hit central Kentucky.

They pulled into the motel around 8pm, Sam grabbing Dean and Cas a double and a single for himself and offering to go get them some dinner once they got their bags inside.

“Any requests?” Sam asked, swiping the keys from the table and opening the door. “Cas?”

“I’m fine with anything. Thank you, Sam,” Cas said as he settled onto one of the beds carefully.

“Just make sure you pick up some soda. I’m getting a caffeine headache,” Dean told him, rummaging around in the bag of new clothes Sam had bought the day before.

“Got it.” Sam closed the door behind him and Dean looked over at Cas.

“You gonna be alright if I take a shower?”

Cas rolled his eyes, his head rolling to the side with the motion, making him wince slightly. “Yes, Dean. I will be fine sitting here on my ass not moving for fifteen whole minutes.” He looked back at Dean, his expression exasperated but Dean could see the telltale upwards quirk of his mouth that told of a repressed smile.

The side of his own mouth twitched in response and he nodded. “Alright, then.”

The shower felt amazing. Aside from that first day, Dean hadn’t left the hospital at all and after nine hours on the road, he knew he must’ve had a special kind of body odor going on. But it was all washed away in the heat of the shower, the motel soap leaving him squeaky clean and smelling faintly of vanilla. He took his time, shaving and letting Cas rest.

Cas and Sam both had been taking jabs at him for hovering so much, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d tried to refrain and failed each time. It was like he couldn’t do enough, every instinct just screaming at him that Cas was hurt and he needed to make it better. Luckily, the stronger Cas got, the less of an overbearing mess Dean seemed to be.

He dressed and made his way out of the steamy bathroom to find Cas watching TV, some nature documentary host droning on about something. Dean made his way over to his bag once more and pulled out fresh bandages.

“You up for changing those things before Sam gets back?” Dean asked and Cas groaned, sitting up from his place on the pillow.

“Might as well. I have a feeling I’ll be asleep soon after we eat.” Cas slid his legs over the side of the bed and motioned toward the bathroom. “Here, or?”

“Right here is fine,” Dean said as he made his way over to him. “Just take your shirt off.”

Cas did as he was told and began lifting the T-shirt off, careful not to snag any of the bandages on his chest or throat. Dean tilted the light on the bedside table so that he could see better and began tearing open a new bandage.

It remained unspoken between them that Cas was more than able to do this for himself. It also remained unspoken that Dean had to do this. It was his repentance for letting Cas get hurt. It was his way of trying to make it better. And Cas seemed to understand that.

Dean set the clean bandage on its packaging on the bed beside Cas’s leg before he began to carefully pull away the old ones on Cas’s chest. Cas hissed slightly when one of his stitches stuck to the bandage and Dean looked up at him in apology.

It was quiet in the room, the air still and warm, Dean’s hands working to clean Cas’s wounds before placing a new bandage over them, fingers trailing the length of the tape as he secured it to Cas’s chest. He rose, stepping between Cas’s parted legs and Cas looked up at him, his head falling to the side to expose his injured throat and Dean suddenly found it hard to breathe, the air too warm, stifling.

He raised his hand and let his fingers trail down the side of the bandage on Cas’s throat, softly, barely there, and he watched as Cas’s eyes fell closed, head tilting even farther as if to fully open to Dean’s touch.

Dean swallowed and returned to his task, pulling the tape from Cas’s skin with deft fingers. The stitches in his throat were along his jugular, several smaller tears already scabbed over and healing around the main wound. Dean cleaned them all carefully and opened a new bandage, placing it over the wounds and taping it securely.

He let his fingers trail once more down the length of the tape, from behind Cas’s ear to his shoulder, telling himself he was just making sure it was secure and not so that he could feel the warmth of his skin, the beat of his pulse beneath them.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas whispered as Dean stepped away, his eyes opening once again as he lifted his head.

Dean met his eyes and watched as Cas lifted his fingers to trace them along the same path Dean had just touched, smiling softly.

Dean cleared his throat. “Anytime,” he croaked, turning to walk briskly to the bathroom and throw away the old bandages. If he stayed in there to splash cold water on his face and catch his breath, well, Cas didn’t mention it.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Sam returned shortly after with a bag of burgers and fries and a two-liter of soda. They ate in relative silence, the TV providing them a soft soundtrack of some Spanish drama, each of them seemingly lost in thought or simply too tired to speak.

Sam bid them goodnight around 10pm and Cas let out a groan as he rose from the table. Dean fought the instinct to rise immediately and instead watched the grimace on his face.

“Hurting bad?” he asked, taking a sip of his soda.

Cas groaned as he stepped over to his bed. He hadn’t bothered to put his shirt back on after Dean changed his bandages so he made quick work of shucking his jeans before sitting on the bed. “It’s not the worst I’ve experienced,” he joked, grabbing the pain medication sitting on his nightstand.

Dean stood from the table, cutting off the main light before stepping over to Cas and handing him the rest of his soda to wash down the pills. Cas took it gratefully and Dean watched as he swallowed down two of the pills with a scowl.

“You shouldn’t wait so long to take that stuff, you know,” he said, stepping over to his own bed and starting to undress. “It’s better to take your next dose before the first wears off.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Cas shuffled under the covers and let out another groan as he settled. “Another thing to get used to, I suppose.”

Dean huffed a laugh as he crawled into his own bed and leaned over to turn off the light. A faint red hue settled over the room from the motel sign outside of their window and Dean sighed. “It’ll get easier with time,” he said. Something he’d said multiple times over the last couple of months, trying to be encouraging, trying to be supportive and present as much as possible to make up for the last time.

Several long moments passed in silence and Dean was just beginning to doze when Cas spoke again, his voice soft and thoughtful. “This is what terrified me the most about the prospect of being human again.”

Dean’s eyes opened and he could make out Cas in the bed beside him, laid on his back and staring at the ceiling. One hand rested just below the wounds on his chest. “Getting hurt?”

Cas laughed at that and turned his head to face Dean in the darkness. “No. Not that… Not being able to heal the ones I care about. I’ve dealt with varying degrees of that fear, with my grace fluctuating the way it had over the years, but… There was a time I could heal any physical wound with a simple touch. And now… Mortality takes on a whole new level of terror when you can no longer prevent it for the ones you love.”

Dean couldn’t think of a reply, stuck staring back at the look of vulnerability on Cas’s face. Finally, he swallowed and nodded. “I know what you mean.”

Cas chucked again and smiled. “I know you do. But I learned something in this experience. While humans may not be able to heal with a touch the way that angels do, they can still heal.”

“What do you mean?”

Cas licked his lips, his eyes turning back to the ceiling. “I don’t remember much of the attack. All I can vividly remember is how cold I was. Whether from blood loss or shock, I don’t know. But it was this all-encompassing cold and I couldn’t escape it. I was lost, floundering and panicked.” Cas shook his head slightly, a smile once again forming on his face. “But then suddenly, there was this warmth. This grounding warmth. And I stopped floundering, I stopped panicking. I simply focused on it and let it warm me.”

Cas turned his head to look at Dean once more. “And I knew it was you. I don’t know how I knew, but I did. And that warmth healed me. It gave me hope and strength when I was completely lost in the cold. But I knew you were there, and that I didn’t need to worry.” Cas’s expression softened as he lifted the hand resting on his chest and looked at it contemplatively, the same hand that Dean had held onto in the hospital and refused to let go of. “So, I learned that humans are capable of healing by touch. Maybe not in the same way, but in a way that matters. Thank you, Dean.”

“Cas -” Dean couldn’t continue, his throat closing up on all of the emotion that had settled in his chest while Castiel spoke.

Cas let his hand fall to rest beside him before looking back at Dean one more time with another small, knowing smile. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean couldn’t help but return the small smile, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before replying. He felt like there was so much he needed to say, but Cas… Of course Cas wasn’t expecting him to say it. He was giving him time. And Dean needed it. “Night, Cas.”

 

**

 

They made good time the next day getting back to the bunker and Dean pulled Baby into the garage just before six. Charlie’s car was in the spot next to the door so Dean pulled in next to her, the three of them exiting and taking a moment to stretch their legs.

Dean grabbed his and Cas’s duffels from the trunk, raising a hand to silence Cas’s objection while Sam hefted their bag of weapons and his own duffel over his shoulder. The sound of the trunk closing echoed through the garage and they’d almost made it to the bunker door when it swung open.

“Castiel!” Jack exclaimed, his excitement undercut by the obvious worry on his face. Dean watched as the young man, as he’d grown to be the last few years, stepped toward his father.

“I’m fine, Jack,” Cas told him, his hand coming to rest on Jack’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “No need to exhaust yourself.”

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong and he bit back his reply. “Okay,” he said instead, turning to Sam. “Let me help.” Sam handed him the duffel of weapons and they all began their way inside.

Ever since Lucifer stole his grace, Jack’s powers had been limited. Cas had been correct assuming that they would eventually replenish, but it seemed that the illness that Jack suffered just after he became “human” lessened his body’s ability to control his angelic power. His body simply wasn’t strong enough to use the powers on a grand scale, like for healing, without it taking a toll on him physically.

Dean gave Cas a knowing look as they walked behind Sam and Jack, already engaged in an excited conversation about the new abilities the witches had displayed. After their conversation the night before, Dean knew that Jack was probably feeling the same way Cas was about not being able to heal others.

Cas, ever a diligent father to the boy they’d all adopted as their own, wouldn’t let Jack heal him if it meant hurting himself, no matter the circumstances. He told Dean once that self-sacrifice was the one Winchester trait he did not want to see passed down, if only for very selfish reasons. Dean understood the sentiment all too well.

As they made their way towards their rooms, Dean agreed to make dinner while Sam and Jack cleaned the weapons and Cas took a much needed shower.

“You want me to -?” Dean asked as Cas stopped at his door, taking his duffel from Dean’s offered hand. Dean gestured at the bandage on Cas’s neck and Cas smiled faintly.

“I think I can manage now. Thank you, Dean.” He turned toward his bedroom door to open it.

“Oh, yeah. ‘Course.” Dean felt his face warm with embarrassment and turned to hurry toward his own room. It made sense, they were home now. Cas was strong enough to shower on his own, of course he’d be able to change a few bandages. It was stupid of him to think -

“Dean.”

Dean stopped in front of his door and turned back. “Yeah?”

“On second thought, it might be best if you put on the new bandages. I – I don’t believe I’d be able to do as good of a job as you do.” Cas’s eyes flickered between Dean and the wall and the warmth on Dean’s face suddenly spread throughout his chest.

“Sure thing. I’ll, uh – I’ll take the first aid kit with me to the kitchen. Just come find me when you’re done?”

Cas met his eyes briefly and offered a quick smile, his own cheeks now a stark shade of pink. “Of course.”

Dean nodded to himself as he opened his bedroom door and walked through, tossing his bag on the ground and sitting heavily on the side of his bed.

His thoughts were running in so many directions, it was hard to keep one straight. He didn’t really know _what_ was happening, but he knew _something_ was. He couldn’t deny his feelings for Cas now any more than he could three years ago.

But he’d been too scared back then, when Cas returned. There was always something pulling them apart or vying for their attention. And now, Cas was human. And Dean had almost lost him _again._

It felt like the whole thing had finally pushed the two of them over the cliff edge that they’d been standing at for years. It felt like flying and falling, both exhilarating and absolutely terrifying. But Dean could not deny that it was happening, for _both_ of them. He could see it plain as day in the flush on Cas’s cheeks moments before.

 

**

 

“And then Charlie got up on the stage and started _dancing_ with Darth Vader! It was incredible,” Jack explained through his mouthful of spaghetti.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s gross,” Charlie scolded from beside him. “And I wasn’t dancing _with_ Vader. It was a dance-off. I was dancing _against_ him.”

Dean choked on his own bite and coughed. “You. Were in a dance off? With Darth Vader? Lemme guess, was there a Princess Leia involved?”

Charlie beamed, pulling her phone out from her back pocket. “Her name is Andi and she’s from Delaware.” Sam and Dean laughed as she pulled up Andi’s picture and held it up between them. Cas leaned in close to see, his hand finding Dean’s knee to support himself and Dean’s laughter cut off in surprise. He coughed to cover his reaction and let out a whistle at the beautiful woman draped over Charlie in the photo.

“She is very attractive,” Cas commented, sitting back in his chair and Dean found himself immediately missing the warmth of his hand.

“She was very nice,” Jack told them. “And very knowledgeable. Did you know there was a _movie_ about Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

Dean chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Kristy Swanson. Won’t ever forget that one.”

“Right?” Charlie snickered, taking a sip of her beer. “But enough about the con. How’re _you_ feeling, buddy?” She turned her attention to Cas, who was finishing up the last bite of his dinner.

“Much better than that first day,” he said, wiping his hands on a napkin and tossing it onto his empty plate. “I can remove the stitches in a couple of days. And the medication that Sam procured is, I believe the term is, ‘the bees knees.’” Cas smiled as Charlie laughed at his use of finger quotes and Dean turned toward him.

“Speaking of, when’s the last time you took it?” he asked, trying hard not to smother him but still hoping that Cas remembered his advice from the night before.

“Just after my shower. You were right. It’s much easier to manage my pain if I don’t let it lapse.” He gave Dean a small smile but it fell as Jack began to speak.

“Are you in a lot of pain? I could -”

Cas’s head turned towards him and Jack went silent at the look on his face. “I’m in pain, yes, but it is manageable. There is no reason for you to take any of it on yourself.”

“Just – If it gets really bad, would you tell me?” Jack looked crestfallen and Dean felt the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair, something, just to reassure him.

“I would. But I still wouldn’t want you hurting yourself for my sake.”

“And besides,” Dean added as he stood and began collecting the dishes. “Those meds he’s on really are the bee’s knees. I can personally attest to that.”

Jack seemed to relax a bit at that and nodded, standing to help Dean with the dishes.

“I can wash these, Dean. You cooked. It’s only fair,” Jack told him as they stepped into the kitchen.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Dean laughed, carefully placing his load of dishes into the sink. Jack turned on the hot water to let it run and Dean put a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, I get where you’re coming from wanting to help Cas. God knows I do. But he really is healing well. And you gotta understand, it’s not that we don’t want your help. It’s just – Any crap that happens to us, me, Sam, Cas, that’ll heal. But watching you hurt yourself, because of _us_ , that’s a memory none of us would get over. You get that?”

Jack had grown still while he spoke, staring at the water running in front of him. He took a moment to absorb Dean’s words and then looked over at him, his eyes glazed with unshed tears. “I understand. Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome.” Dean pat Jack’s shoulder and turned to leave. “And don’t leave the sauce pan to ‘sit overnight’ again. That shit is nasty and you have the memory of a gnat,” he tossed over his shoulder and smiled at the indignant squawk he heard come from the sink.

 

**

 

Several hours and a few episodes of Star Trek later, Dean still couldn’t sleep. Which felt weird considering that he’d slept fine the night before on a lumpy and musky mattress in a too warm, skeevy motel room.

His bedroom just felt _off_ somehow. He let his eyes wander around the dim room, wondering if maybe Jack had come in and moved something. It wasn’t until he heard the soft knock on his door that he realized what had been missing.

“Come in,” he said, sitting up.

Cas looked sheepish as he entered, his hair wild as if he’d been laying on it for hours, his eyes tired and glassy from his pain meds.

“Hey, what’s up?” Cas closed the door behind him but made no move to approach the bed. Dean watched as his hands fiddled with the drawstring of his sweatpants, his chest bare save for his bandages.

“I can’t seem to get to sleep,” Cas said finally and Dean felt that warm rush through his chest once again.

“Come ‘ere.” The words were out before he could even think to form a response, a knee-jerk reaction at the sight of Cas standing there.

Dean watched as Cas blinked several times in the bare light, the realization of Dean’s words making its way through him a step at a time. His shoulders relaxed, his eyes seemed to light, his relief so obvious it made Dean’s chest hurt.

Neither of them spoke as Cas made his way to the bed. Dean held the comforter and sheet up for him as he slid into the space beside him, the space that was always empty until this moment, the space he’d unintentionally left beside him all those years. Cas settled on the pillow on his back, his hands resting on his stomach. Dean situated himself on his side, struck by just how close they were when Cas turned to look at him. Lights from the TV danced on the sharp contours of Cas’s face and Dean stared, completely entranced.

“I couldn’t get warm in my room,” Cas whispered, his eyes falling in what looked like embarrassment or shame. Dean knew that look. He recognized that internal battle of wanting to be strong but still being overwhelmed by his own head, his memories.

“Hey.” Dean reached out, his hand resting carefully on Cas’s arm. “It’s okay, Cas.” He hoped like hell that Cas understood. It was okay to feel traumatized. It was okay to come to him. It was _all_ okay.

Cas moved his hand and covered Dean’s on his arm, giving it a light squeeze. His face visibly relaxed and he closed his eyes with a sigh. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Dean closed his eyes and let his fingers curl around Cas’s as their breaths deepened and they both drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean awoke slowly, a cocoon of warmth surrounding him, making the trek from sleep to consciousness slow. Reality came alive in moments, the feel of skin beneath his fingers, a line of warmth running the length of his chest, the twitch of a grip around his forearm as it slowly rose and fell in tandem with the sound of breathing.

Dean opened his eyes, the room barely lit by the title screen of his DVD illuminated on the TV. Cas was still asleep, his head turned slightly in Dean’s direction, lips slightly parted. Dean allowed himself to stare, taking in the peaceful expression on Cas’s face.

Dean knew it should feel weird. Or at the very least, _different_. But somehow, lying with Castiel felt normal. Well, maybe not normal. More like, not new. He’d longed for this for so long, pushing it down and away, that now that it was really happening, it all still felt like a dream. Maybe it would feel weird later, but for now, Dean was content.

It was only a few moments later that Cas began to stir. Dean found himself smiling as Cas sniffled, pulling Dean’s arm more strongly across his center. His head turned more towards Dean, his cheek rubbing against the pillow for a moment before he stilled and opened his eyes.

A look of surprise crossed his face before he realized where he was.

“Dean.” His voice sounded disbelieving.

Dean smiled. “Morning.”

Cas blinked a few times and his fingers twitched again before tightening their hold on Dean’s arm. He slowly returned Dean’s smile and it felt like staring at the sun. “Good morning.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

“I slept very well,” Cas responded, rolling his neck carefully from side to side before settling back with a contented sigh. “Your bed is much more comfortable than mine.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “I see how it is. Just using me for my memory foam.”

Cas’s smile turned into a cheeky grin as he shuffled further down into the pillow. “It is quite nice.”

Dean couldn’t help the wide grin on his own face, warmth filling him up so fully and suddenly that it was a bit dizzying. “Damn right, it is.”

“How did you sleep?” Cas asked, his fingers beginning to trail gently over Dean’s arm.

Dean took the opportunity to tighten his hold slightly. “Better than I have in years,” he answered honestly and Cas’s smile faltered slightly, fondness and concern warring for dominance in his eyes.

Dean couldn’t take the way he was looking at him and did the only thing he could think to do, lowering his chin and nuzzling Cas’s shoulder to hide his face.

He felt Cas stiffen and a wave of panic surged through him. Holding on to one another was one thing, a comfort, but here he was essentially cuddling with Cas and what if he wasn’t –

His breath caught in his chest as he felt Cas lift his hand, burying his fingers in Dean’s short hair and scratching lightly. Dean let out an involuntary groan as every muscle in his body relaxed at once. He couldn’t remember the last time someone rubbed his head like this, the last time he’d been touched so… intimately.

“I’m glad you slept well, Dean,” Cas said softly. Dean hummed his response as Cas continued his massage, too at ease and content to even muster a response.

They laid there in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s warmth and company until Castiel began to stir. Dean unwrapped himself to let Cas get up and felt a pang of pity as Cas let out a pained whimper as he sat up.

“You okay?” he asked, sitting up himself.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit stiff from sleeping so soundly, I think. My medicine seems to have stopped working again, too.” He swung his legs to rest on the floor as Dean got up from the bed, stepping over to the dresser.

“I can whip you up some eggs or something, so you don’t have to take them on an empty stomach,” he said, reaching for a t-shirt. He stopped for a second and considered before grabbing Cas a button down flannel so he wouldn’t have to strain the stitches on his chest.

“That would be great. Thank you.” Cas looked up as Dean approached and took the offered shirt with a smile. “I know it’s only because I’m injured, but I think they call this being _spoiled_ ,” he said with a smirk and Dean felt his face warm.

“Shut up and go take your meds.” Dean bit his lip to repress his smile as he opened the door to his bedroom, heading out to the kitchen with Cas’s amused chuckle echoing in his ears.

 

**

 

“I just thought I’d take Jack with me on this one,” Sam said from his seat across from Dean. Dean had joined him in the war room to find out that Sam had stumbled on a case and was surprised when Sam suggested he hang back with Cas.

“Really?” Dean arched a brow at his younger brother.

“Dean -” Sam started and Dean immediately tensed. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever Sam was about to say next. Was this about his freak-out when Cas got hurt?

Finally, Sam let out a heavy sigh and pulled a hand down his face. “I just figured, after everything that went down – maybe you and Cas could use some time… To _yourselves_ , you know?”

Dean stared at his brother in slack-jawed shock. When he’d allowed himself to picture this conversation with his brother, this wasn’t the way he’d always pictured it going. But, then again, it _was_ Sammy.

Dean nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.” He met his brother’s eyes and smiled. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam gave him a half-smile and took a sip of his beer. “You bet.”

 

**

 

Dinner that night was an eventful affair. Charlie was heading out in the morning when Sam and Jack planned to start off for Washington, so they all decided to pile into the Dean Cave and watch the latest Dr. Sexy. They came in with their bowls of chili and cold beers, Dean and Cas on the new couch, Charlie and Sam in the recliners and Jack spread out on a bean bag he’d dragged in from his room.

Sam had finally given up teasing Dean about his love for Dr. Sexy when they introduced Dr. Alice Barton, a heart surgeon played by one of Sam’s childhood celebrity crushes. Dean knew he’d successfully hooked him when Sam set his alarm for the season premiere on his phone.

Cas indulged him, watching with him every week for as long as he could remember now. When Charlie was around, the two of them would group together, pointing out all of the “so obvious” inaccuracies in the show.

Jack was often confused by the interactions of the characters, but he too seemed to enjoy their Dr. Sexy chili nights. And it led to some really entertaining questions and amusing answers from a flustered Sam.

If Dean had to pick a moment when he felt the most comfort and joy, it was these nights with his family. And that particular night, with Cas’s thigh pressed against his, smiling at him as he ate, was probably the best one yet.

 

**

 

Several hours later, Dean found himself anxious, winding tighter and tighter as the night went on. Neither him nor Cas had breached the topic of the night before, having never really been alone throughout the day. Would Cas want to sleep in his bed with him again? Should he ask? Should he let Cas bring it up? What if he was waiting for Dean to say something?

The tension came to a head when they were finally alone, both of them standing in the kitchen after cleaning up from dinner.

“So- uh,”

“Dean, I -”

They spoke at the same time, both stopping and staring nervously at the other before they both started laughing. Dean simply shook his head at the both of them and took Cas’s hand, leading him down the hallway to his bedroom.

The door clicked loudly in the quiet space behind them and they undressed quietly down to their boxers. Dean slid into bed as Cas pulled his medication from his hoody pocket, taking two pills with a bottle of water he’d carried with him.

He watched as Cas set the bottles on the nightstand, a piece of furniture that Dean had moved so many times, he’d lost track. When it sat beside the bed, it made the reality of his empty bed too real, but as soon as he moved it away, it just felt wrong. And now, seeing Cas sitting on the other side of the bed, taking off his watch and setting it in the small bowl Dean picked up at a long-forgotten flea market, he realized why. It had always belonged to Cas.

His thoughts must’ve been written on his face because when Cas turned to get under the covers, he stopped and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Dean asked, settling down into his pillow.

“Are you sure this is alright?” Cas asked. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean gave him a look that said _are you fucking kidding me right now_ and rolled his eyes. “If I was uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have dragged you in here in the first place, you idiot.”

Cas chuckled at that and nodded. “Good point.” He got under the covers, pulling them up over his chest.

“We gonna take your stitches out tomorrow?”

Cas shrugged. “I suppose. I’m growing tired of relying on these pills. The healing process simply takes too long, in my opinion.”

Dean sighed. “It sucks, I know. But you didn’t exactly stub your toe, buddy. I thought -” Dean’s throat tightened slightly as the memory of that night took hold and he coughed to clear it. Cas regarded him with a weighted look as he continued, “You got hurt pretty bad. We were lucky we got you to the hospital when we did.”

Cas ran his fingers down the length of the bandage on his throat. “I am grateful.”

Dean sniffed, wanting very much to change the subject so he rolled on to his side, not bothering to wait for an invitation to wrap his arm around Cas’s stomach and pull him close.

He felt Cas sigh, his body relaxing and Dean took that as a sign that his need to be close was okay. So, he nuzzled his face against Cas’s shoulder like he had done that morning, and just the same as that morning, Cas’s hand found the back of Dean’s head, fingers working aimlessly across his scalp.

Dean was half-asleep, blissed out from Cas rubbing his head. “I could get used to this,” he mumbled and felt the rumble of Cas’s quiet laugh. Cas reached over and cut off the light on his nightstand, shrouding the room in darkness. “Night, Cas.”

Cas shifted slightly, getting more comfortable. The last thing Dean felt before he drifted off to sleep was the press of Cas’s lips against his forehead, his breath skating across his skin as he whispered, “Goodnight, Dean.”


End file.
